Hell is in the Details
by JennyLD
Summary: Clark always tries to do what's right. So does Chloe.


**Characters: **Chloe, Clark, Lana, Lex**  
Spoiler(s):** None, takes place around season five/six  
**Disclaimer:** Smallville stole my soul from Doctor Who. Unfortunately, it didn't come with any rights of ownership.  
**Author's Note:** Written off of a prompt game with Sinecure. We both took the same lines (her prompt) and wrote a fic, just to see how different the stories would turn out.  
Thanks to Sinecure for the beta, the title, and the prompt lines, which are integrated into the fic (though I changed them a bit...if you want to see the original prompt, check out her story _Look at Her Past_.

* * *

She doesn't need to look very hard to find him. He's in the first place she looks; exactly where she expects him to be, doing exactly what she knows he'll be doing. Being the good son, the good person she knows he is.

Even when he makes mistakes, even when causalities are left in his wake, his heart is always in the right place. His intent is always what's best, his goal always the safety of those he cares about.

Things she needs to remind herself of more and more lately.

"Hey, Clark."

"Chloe!" He looks up from the tractor he's working on, wide, innocent smile gracing his lips. It never fails to turn her heart to mush, to make her stomach perform acrobatics that would cause Olympic gymnasts a pang of jealousy. "How's that article you're working on?"

"You mean the shocking exposé on the sudden, inexplicable rise in work-related paper cuts?" Chloe watches as he wipes the grease off his hands, wonders how they'd feel gliding across her skin. "Copywriters everywhere will finally get their rightful vindication."

His laugh is good-natured and pure, there's no hidden agenda with Clark, no worrying that he's laughing i_at_/i you instead of with you. "Well, it may not be headline-worthy, Chloe, but you'll get there. I was just telling Lois about that Torch article you wrote in tenth grade--"

"Clark."

Something in the tone of her voice--or maybe it's the tears hiding just beneath the surface of her control--makes him pause, a look of concern stealing over his handsome features. She's never been able to hide her feelings very well, especially the Clark-colored ones.

"Chloe? Are you okay?" He's right in front of her before she can turn away.

A nervous laugh escapes her lips. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just...Lana. She--"

"Lana? Is she okay? If Lex did anything to hurt her..." And suddenly, any concern for Chloe is gone. Forgotten. That's the thing with Clark, he may be able to see right through Chloe's thin disguise, but throw Lana Lang into the picture and he's blind as a bat.

Even after all these years, it still hurts.

It takes more than she likes to get herself under control, to continue with the pretense of normalcy. She doesn't want to tell him this, doesn't want to send him straight into Lana's arms, but more than that, she wants to do what's best.

And she realizes now that there's no other option than this.

"She's fine Clark. She asked me to tell you to meet her in Chandler field," Chloe pushes forward, trying to ignore the way his eyes light up at the tiniest bit of hope her words inspire. She knows how it will end, has known since she reluctantly agreed to be the messenger in this endeavor.

She has to go through with it anyway. "I think she might want to patch things over between you two."

Clark's face brightens considerably with his happiness. "For sure?" he asks, practically bouncing in place.

Grinning, putting on a good show for his sake, Chloe pats his shoulder. "Absolutely, 100%, for sure."

And without warning, he's gone. A red-blue blur leaving nothing behind except Chloe and her quickly disappearing smile.

* * *

She doesn't return to Metropolis that night. She's too exhausted to make the drive, doesn't trust that she won't end up in a ditch, or worse, causing a five-car pileup.

Besides, this way, if something goes horribly, awfully wrong, she'll still be in Smallville to manage the damage control.

Curling up on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and a chenille throw, Chloe watches the clock. Counts the seconds, the minutes, the hours that pass without any sort of an update. Not knowing what's going on, if things are turning out as planned or not, leaves a dull ache in her heart and a nauseous feeling in her stomach.

She fights sleep as best as she can, but at a quarter past two, her eyes begin to slide closed.

She wakes to the sound of her name.

"Chloe." The voice is familiar and loved, sends a warmth spreading through her that rivals the hot chocolate she drank earlier. The light pressure she feels on her arm is comforting in a way that the chenille throw could never compare to.

She opens her eyes with a smile.

The bright light of the morning sun shines through the kitchen windows, casting a golden hue over his face. Brown, messy hair. Green, sparkling eyes. Kind, caring face.

She could bask in the glow of his love forever.

"Chloe." The tone of his voice is off, it's...not right.

Something has gone horribly, awfully wrong.

She blinks and the room darkens. His face changes, morphs. Slick, bald head. Icy, blue eyes. Cool, uncaring face.

"Lex?" Chloe fights through the fog of sleep and pushes herself into a sitting position, quickly brushing his hand off her arm. The way it makes her feel is nothing like with Clark, and she simply can't handle it.

Not now.

He drops his hand with a small sigh. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't." Pulling the throw snugly around her shoulders, she clutches it over the thin nightshirt she borrowed from Lois' dresser. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you could use some company," Lex half-shrugs, leaning back on his heels, still crouched down beside her. It's a weird and slightly awkward, almost vulnerable position for him to be in.

Chloe wonders if he witnessed the meeting between Clark and Lana. If he was there...

A sharp stab of fear shoots through her. "Clark--" she breathes, shoving to her feet, ready to shoot through the front door and straight to her best friend's side. Willing to take on Lex, Luthorcorp, and the whole of the world if anything happened to him.

Lex is quicker. He rises with her and grips her shoulders firmly, halting her escape.

"Clark's fine, Chloe," he murmurs, guiding her back onto the couch and sitting down beside her, hands grasping and releasing her arms in a strange sort of massage.

She wants to believe him, but he's a Luthor and Luthor's aren't exactly known for their honesty. Images flash inside her mind: of Clark beaten and bloody, disposed of along a stretch of unknown highway, left there to die; Lana alone in a room somewhere with no discernable doors or windows, no way to escape Lex's clutches.

Eyes darting over his face, his suit, his hands, still wrapped around her arms, Chloe looks for signs of a struggle. Wrinkles in the expensive fabric, the telltale darkening of an eye, dried blood on his knuckles. But there's nothing. He looks just as cool and immaculate as he did first thing yesterday morning.

Watching her shrewdly, he must see the panic setting in, and he tries to reassure her, "Chloe, trust me on this. Clark's fine." His voice isn't soothing, it isn't strained, it's completely emotionless. He looks away, hides his gaze from her eyes. "Lana's with him."

And she knows then that he was there, watching and observing. Hidden somewhere out of eyesight, but well within listening distance.

It's done.

* * *

She dreams that night of death.

A pool of blood and Clark standing over it. The red, viscous liquid dripping from his hands, his face, his chest. It's everywhere.

She tries to run to him, to soothe the wounds marring his flesh and haunting his eyes. But she can't move. She can't move and she knows that it's not because something is holding her back. It's because she did this to him, she gave up the right to comfort him.

And he knows it too.

Then everything changes.

There's a body on the ground, lifeless and scarred beyond recognition. It's not Clark. It's not Lana. It's some nameless, faceless person whose life was ended before his time.

Chloe wakes with a gasp, an icy knot of fear settling in her gut.

Blinking her eyes against the bright light of morning, she stares up at the vaguely familiar ceiling above her. The dream leaves her foggy and disoriented, but it only takes a moment to get her bearings, to remember where she is.

Whose arms she spent the night in.

Lex is still asleep beside her; close enough she can feel the warmth of his body, and yet far away enough that she feels cold and empty and alone. Not wanting to wake him, to have to deal with the awkward morning after conversation, she slips quietly from the bed and hurries to the bathroom. She needs to see Clark, and she can't do that if Lex knows, if he even suspects her intentions.

He won't let her go.

Splashing cold water on her face, Chloe stares at the haunted eyes staring back at her in the mirror. When did things become so complex? When did her life go from the innocent simplicity of a few years back--high school crushes and the Wall of Weird, to this? She's always known that growing up meant making the hard choices, doing what's right, even if you don't want to. But this...this is beyond difficult.

It takes her more than a few minutes to regain her composure and by the time she leaves the bathroom, Lex is gone. Which is just as well. She doesn't really feel up to dealing with the twisted web that is their relationship right now.

Besides, there are more important things to worry about.

She takes the drive slowly, sipping her coffee and thinking about what she's going to say to Clark. There have been so many lies, so many deceptions lately that all she wants to do is clear the air and make sure he's all right.

But no matter her resolve, she still finds herself hesitating, pausing just outside his room. Hands sweating from nerves, Chloe wipes them on her jeans, thinking about all the things Clark's done for her, all the times he's saved her, helped her, been there for her when she needed him most.

It's no easy task telling someone you love how you've betrayed them. Even if it was for the greater good.

"What are you doing here, Chloe." Lana's voice is firm, verging on angry. She stands beside Chloe, watching her with something akin to suspicion, as if she expects her to rush in and snatch Clark away. "Did you think it'd make it easier to see for yourself?"

Chloe turns away, a choked sob escaping her throat. Maybe it was a mistake to come here, maybe it'll just end up making everything that much worse. But she had to. For Clark.

For herself.

Lana sighs and reaches out, placing her hand on Chloe's arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't think. I mean this is hard for you, of course it is."

Chloe shakes her head. "No. You're right. I probably shouldn't be here, but I had to make sure he was okay."

She can see Lana nodding out of the corner of her eye, knows that she understands. Knows that she's not angry with her, she's just worried.

It's that concern, that sympathy that finally breaks through the fear. With a deep breath, Chloe pushes open the door to Clark's room and walks quickly across the threshold, not willing to give herself the chance to change her mind.

The room is huge, cavernous.

There's a wall of beeping computers directly in front of her, a sheet of one-way glass above them. And beyond that...

Clark.

Caged up like an animal, the bars of his cell pulse with a light green glow. The floor and ceiling are made of lead, laced with just a hint of blue.

Lex obviously isn't taking any chances.

It's on the tip of her tongue to say something, to chastise Lana for being a part of all of this. For betraying Clark in the worst possible way, using his weakness for her against him. But Chloe's just as responsible as she is. Just as responsible as Lex, who orchestrated the whole thing. Maybe even more so.

Chloe is Clark's best friend, the one he choose to confide in, to tell his deepest, darkest secrets to. How was she repaying him? By selling him out to the woman of his dreams and his former friend.

Watching Clark glare at the bank of windows, face twisted with the agony she knows he's experiencing, it feels almost like he's looking right at her. She knows it's ridiculous, his powers have been stripped, but that hardly makes a difference when she can see her guilt clearly in the reflection in front of her.

And suddenly she can't stand the sight of herself anymore.

Turning to leave, she knocks a stack of papers off the table beside her. Doesn't stop to right it, doesn't even slow when Lana calls out to her, concern lacing her voice. Doesn't pause when she runs into Lex and sees the veiled hurt and betrayal in his eyes. She nearly bowls him over in her haste to get away from him, to escape from what they did together; in the bedroom and on the battlefield.

Chloe doesn't stop until she's in her car in the middle of a Luthorcorp parking lot, eyes burning with the tears she can no longer hold back. As they stream down her face, she has to remind herself that she's doing the right thing.

A long time ago, when she first learned of Clark's secret, she swore she'd always protect him. But more importantly than that, she swore to herself that if he ever lost control, ever became more of a danger to the world than a help, she'd protect the world over him.

And that's exactly what she's doing.

-- **Spoiler(s):** SPOILER(S)  
**Summary:** SUMMARY  
**Disclaimer:** DISCLAIMER  
**Author's Note:** NOTE. Thanks to


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